The Gentlemen - Book 2
by MasterAskim
Summary: The story of the Gentlemen continues as Bella seeks to exact her revenge on the "New Management" breakaway faction. With a select group of loyal compatriots she leaves the relative safety of The Compound and enters her enemy's world. The rules are different and the stakes are high, but nothing will stop Bella from finding her target.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book. **

"_Passion, it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir … open its jaws, and howl._

_It speaks to us, guides us, passion rules us all; and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments._

_The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts - sometimes more than we can bear._

_If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow, empty rooms, shuttered and dank."_

~Unknown

**Chapter 1**

_**Who is God?**_

The words had hung in the air between my father and me when I asked the question that my former captors had asked while they did their worst to me. In the end I hadn't told them anything, I'd like to think it was due to my ability to place the importance of others, of the organization ahead of myself. In truth I knew it was only my lack of knowledge that kept me from talking.

The ordeal that prompted the question was six months in the past and I have healed up and come through my physical therapy with the kind of grim determination that both amazed and concerned my caregivers.

"Bella, you need to slow down, you won't get out of here any earlier if you re-injure yourself." Edward would say to me. I listened when he cautioned me; he had a hand in rescuing me so I guess he had the right to make sure I would come through the recovery process.

My other friends, the brainy Ben and Alice, the tougher Jake and Demetri and the irrepressible Shenani Whatagans all made sure they stopped by regularly and offered words of encouragement and talked about the things we would do once I was back on my feet. I smile and nod and engage in pointless conversation, none of them know my true goal, to recover and get some answers.

My father had promised to discuss the question of God once I had a clean bill of health and I was also ready to accept my invitation to The Gentlemen's elite secret enforcement arm, the Black Collars. I was currently a member of the Red Collars even though I was to be trained in all facets of the organization. I was told it was due to my versatile skill set but in reality we all knew it was due to no one knowing where to put me.

The Blue Collars taught me about weapons, explosives and other tactics for use by the organizations militant wing; they are the foot soldiers and low end enforcers. The White Collars taught me about cyber-warfare and scientific espionage, my father is the head of the Whites. The Red Collars taught me about infiltration and assassination as well as intelligence gathering through seduction and blackmail.

I chose the Reds as my 'sponsoring' faction to keep an eye on their leader, Esme Cullen, Edward's mother. I was ill suited for the Reds since my seduction techniques had been likened to a 'drunken prom date', but it was only a cover. I was to be a Black Collar soon and as such would be privy to the information I needed to make my enemies pay for what they had done to me, and my family.

My family, I sigh as I remember my mother. She was so vibrant and full of life; it's been less than two years since her death at the hands of Michael "Newt" Newton. Garrett had taken care of that for me, that man's last moments on earth had been the stuff nightmares are made of. The hell Garrett sent him to must have seemed like heaven after his revenge was complete.

That meant only four remained on my list: Jasper and Emmett Whitlock, the brothers who had abducted and tortured me. Emmett was a violent sadist who was responsible for the bulk of my injuries; his brother Jasper had inflicted wounds of a different kind. Only a select few knew the details of what had happened to me in that room with him, but he had taken a part of me that day, a part that I would never get back.

Rosalie "Rose" Hale was a former Red Collar and someone I had foolishly trusted. She had delivered me into the hands of the Whitlock brothers and made good her escape before anyone knew she was involved. She had fooled us all into thinking the organization's greatest enemy was dead at her hand, it had bought her some forgiveness when it came to her participation in the attempted coup by the so called 'New Management' group headed by one James Witherdale.

James Witherdale. I was one of the few who had come face to face with the man and not only lived to tell about it, but also had, in some people's opinion anyway, gotten the better of the man. No easy feat for someone as new to this life as I am, but I have always been a quick learner.

I shake myself out of my memories. Today I do my final medical review with the doctors; if I pass I will be given a clean bill of health and released from the infirmary. When that happens, and I intend to see to it that it will happen; I will get the answers my father has promised me. I will find out exactly who is so important that I had to suffer the way I did to protect their identity.

I test my knees and do a couple of deep leg bends, good as new, maybe better. The physical therapy was more strenuous than any exercise I was used to, so I was actually in better shape than I was before I was abducted.

I look up and see Garrett standing by the door. He is dressed in his immaculate business suit and tie, cufflinks and shined shoes that somehow look more lethal on him than any military uniform on a soldier. I don't see it but I know his ornate .50 Cal AE Desert Eagle is in a shoulder holster under his jacket, he even named it, Katrina; I smile when I think of the first time I saw it.

"Ready kid?" he asks like he's taking me to the mall. We both know what is at stake here. I make a face at him calling me "kid" though, after everything I have been through I think I have outgrown his little nickname.

"Ready as I will ever be, let's do this." I walk past him and we go down the hall of the infirmary to the physical therapy room. I will be demonstrating for the head of my current faction (The Red Collars) that I am fit for duty. I'm not sure who else will be present, but I imagine the members of The Board will be represented as well as someone from the little known Black Collar faction.

As I walk into the room I am surprised at the number of chairs that are set up. I see Esme (no surprise there) and Jake's father, Billy Black, head of the Blue Collars already seated. My father enters shortly after, followed by the Director of Public Relations (what we affectionately referred to as the department of misinformation) Emily Young. She sits far away from my father and Garrett, also not a surprise knowing what I do about their history.

Last to enter is Vladamir, escorting the head of the Black Collars, Sabrina Epperson. She looks just as she did during our first introduction. I know not everyone is aware of her status, or that we have already met, so I make no indication that I know her.

"Ms. Swan, are you ready to proceed?" The organization's lead physician is there with a clipboard and appears eager to get this over with.

"I'm ready," I respond with conviction.

"Let's begin then." The doctor turns to the assembled spectators. "Before I give a rundown of the patient's history, I must remind you that certain aspects of her medical history have been redacted from the official record as part of the confidentiality that exists between doctor and patient. The only aspects I will be revealing are that which the patient has given permission for me to reveal. In my opinion, all relevant information will be conveyed in my report today."

The doctor reads from his notes on the clipboard. "Patient was brought in approximately six months ago with multiple bone fractures in the extremities, rib cage and face. Nerve damage as a result of extreme electrical discharge introduced directly into the central nervous system was present as well as a concussion, internal bleeding and mental trauma from the ordeal itself. Also present was a concoction of drugs administered to her by her captors." He flips the page on his clipboard and continues. "The patient was given lifesaving treatment by rescue teams on site to stabilize her, and then emergency surgery to repair the damage to her internal organs. All broken bones were set and cast, it was determined that she be placed in a medically induced coma until phase one of the healing was completed. The side effects of her being bedridden for an extended period of time are as follows: Severe muscle atrophy, loss of coordination and fine motor skills, mild depression, and a stubborn refusal to follow this physician's instructions that I suspect may have existed prior to these injuries."

I look up at the last statement and catch Garrett and my father both trying to suppress a grin at the remark. The physician sets down the clipboard and addresses them all. "I will now take questions that pertain to the facts I have given you."

Esme is first, "Can you speak to her mental state? Is there any lasting mental trauma normally found in victims of an assault of this type? Post-traumatic stress disorder for instance?" I was expecting this but not sure what the answer will be.

The doctor checks his notes again. "The patient is not showing any symptoms of such a disorder, this does not mean that it could not manifest at a later time. However, at this point there is nothing that would support a diagnosis of that type. I would suggest regular psych evaluations for the next year to be on the safe side."

"Lasting physical damage?" my father inquires with a tone of concern.

"Three inches of bone on the left side was snapped off the lower rib, it was determined to be a more medically sound decision to remove the bone rather than repair it. Scarring on the spleen and liver as a result of lacerations that were repaired during surgery, there is a small amount of scarring on the pericardial tissue from the cardiac arrest. Patient has exceeded all expectations in physical therapy and has regained or exceeded all previous physical ability." My father smiles and sits back, no one is prepared for what the doctor says next, including me.

"Patient has, in all likelihood, lost the ability to carry a child to term." The room falls silent.

"What?" My father doesn't wait for an answer. "That was not in the preliminary report."

"Due to the injuries the patient sustained during the assault there was extensive internal damage and such damage, while repairable, does present complications; much like a broken bone is susceptible to arthritic pain years after healing. I'm sorry there was not more we could do, our focus was saving her life." The doctor's face is as impassive as my father's is livid.

"You're sorry? Oh well then that changes everything!" My father looks at Garrett, "He's sorry, we have the best medical staff money can buy and this quack is sorry…" Garrett puts a hand on my father's arm.

"Calm down Charles, he is right. The focus was saving her life, which I think there may have only been a few medical professionals in the world capable of doing, as far gone as she was." Garrett holds my father's gaze. He knows what the real reason for my damaged state is and he is diverting my father's attention from the why to just accepting how things are. I stand in stoic silence, betraying nothing of the thoughts going through my head.

"I have a question." Everyone falls silent at the clipped words of Sabrina Epperson. Everyone turns and looks at her. She waits until she had everyone's attention before continuing; it was obvious she was not used to repeating herself. "In light of this information and the obvious change in Bella from her initial placement, is the Red Collars still the most suitable faction for her?"

My eyes snap to Esme's and I see she looks uncomfortable. I knew she didn't want to have me in her faction from the start but I also knew how the politics among the factions worked. Giving me up without at least a token show of resistance would be the same as admitting she couldn't handle me; a sign of weakness that would be like blood in the water while swimming with sharks. But I could also see she was not about to contradict Sabrina. There is a history there, more than respect, it is fear.

"I'm not so sure she doesn't still belong with us." Esme begins cautiously, she catches Sabrina's eye and immediately backtracks. "I will however, defer to the judgment of The Board if that is their wish." She finishes as magnanimously as possible under the circumstances.

"I don't think there is any harm in having another vote on the subject." Sabrina continues to press the issue, daring anyone to challenge her on it. My father watches her intently, trying to figure out what her angle is. "I would also like to offer the Directors of each faction the possibility of allowing my Special Projects group the option of taking over mentoring Ms. Swan in the event an appropriate faction cannot be unanimously decided on." There it was, she had just extended her hand, I had either to take hold of it or slap it away, and either decision had its consequences.

My father stands up and addresses the group. "Thank you doctor for your analysis. I think we can take it from here without you." His meaning is clear, this discussion is for members only and "the help" is not welcome. He looks at Garrett, "You too old friend, I will meet with you presently once our business here is concluded."

Once Garrett and the doctor have left, my father turns to me. "I move that Bella be permitted to choose a new faction or to go to Special Projects. Unless there are any objections I will consider the motion seconded and passed." He looks at Esme, Emily and Billy, his stern look made it clear this is only the illusion of democracy, his word is law when it comes to me. When no objection is raised my father looks back at me, "Very well then Bella, you are being granted an opportunity very few members get, to be able to choose your own faction is a great honor and not a decision to be taken on lightly."

I take a deep breath and look at my father. This is to be one of those moments that will define the rest of my life. I want to look at all sides of the issue and make an informed decision but there is only one thing that matters, revenge; and who would be most suited to ensuring I get it.

"I would like to thank The Directors for entrusting this decision to me. I would also like to thank Esme for taking me on within The Red Collars as my mentoring faction, as well as the other factions for their assistance in rescuing me from my captors. At this time, however, I feel Special Projects would be best suited to my diverse skill set and my desire to hunt down the individuals who did this to me and who seek to destroy what we have built here." I glance at Ms. Epperson and catch the hint of a smile, "I hope to continue learning all I can from each faction so I will never again be a victim or potential liability to any of you."

"So be it." My father sits back down, a look of relief and uncertainty somehow simultaneously crossing his face. "The record will reflect you are now a member of the Special Projects team. I hope you achieve all that you set out to do." He looks around wearily, "If there is no other business, I need a drink and to have a word with my daughter."

Once everyone has left and Garrett comes back in with a drink for my father that he accepts gratefully and gulps down, he motions for me to sit with him. "I am so sorry, Bella." He begins, referring to the bombshell the doctor had dropped. "We will find a way to make it right, I swear to you…"

"Dad," I cut him off. "I don't really want to talk about it; it's not something I was even considering at this point in my life. I'm sure I will have plenty of time for regrets and self-pity once I have made the ones responsible pay. Now, per our agreement do you have some information for me?" I didn't like being short with him but I was of a singular focus these days. After my ordeal I had learned to separate people into three categories. Those who needed to die; those who would help me achieve that goal and everyone else. If you were in the second category you had my attention, if you were in the first, you would regret having my undivided attention, if you were in the third category, I had no time for you until it was over. Blood ties, personal history or friendships didn't matter, there was no middle ground.

"Yes I do, per our agreement." My father takes my hand, "I just wanted to make sure you are okay, can't a father be concerned about his daughter?" He looks at me expectantly.

I pull my hand back and hold his gaze. "I'm sorry but your daughter is still a captive, I'm the only one who made it out of there and I intend to help you get her back, maybe when they are all dead she will be returned to you, but until that time we have work to do. I have already wasted enough time healing; now either give me the information I need or get out of my way." My meaning is clear, Bella Swan never came back, this was Bella Dwyer, and they would regret creating this monster.

My father gives me a pitying look and I explode, "DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" I scream at him, "Don't you dare pity me! Pity the ones I am after, there is nowhere on earth they can hide from me." I collect myself, "Now, the information you promised, if you please."

My father clears his throat and thought better of arguing and launches into his briefing. "Yes well, um to your question as to the identity of GOD, I cannot divulge an identity I do not know but I can explain the position and concept. GOD stands for Global Operations Director; this person is the ultimate leader of the organization and all Directors report to GOD. I personally have never met GOD; all briefings are done remotely or via encrypted transmission and all correspondence and directives from GOD come through Vladamir. Vladamir's official position is the Voice Of GOD, he is the only one who has direct dealings with GOD and knows GOD's true identity."

"You must have a theory as to the identity though?" I ask, taking all of this knowledge in and planning my next steps. "I would appreciate if you would share it if you do."

"There are a lot of theories. Some even say it is me, which I can tell you unequivocally it is not. I can also confidently say it is not one of the Cullens or Youngs. They jockey too much for power for it to be one of them. It could be Ms. Epperson, but I think she is holding a secret of a different kind. It could also be someone I have never even met." He shrugs, "Not much help I'm afraid."

I stand up, "You have been very helpful, and you have helped me plan my next move." I take his hand, "One day I will get your daughter back for you, and I will make the ones who took her pay."

My father looks at me with sad eyes and holds my hand tight. "Bella, you are an Swan and you don't have to do this."

"NO!" I pull my hand away. "Bella Swan is still missing." I walk toward the door, stop and turn to him, "I am Bella Dwyer, and I plan on carving that name on James Witherdale's heart."

"And then what?" my father replies sadly. "Then do I get my daughter back?"

"What's left of her, part of her didn't make it. I'm sorry for your loss." I leave him standing there as I stride off down the hall. I hear his reply to my retreating back.

"So am I," he whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book. **

**Chapter 2**

I move down the corridor with singular purpose. I have more questions that need answers and my father has pointed me in the right direction to get those answers. I see Alice and Jake standing in the hallway with Shenani and Demetri. I barely acknowledge them as I stride past, my eyes scanning the distance, locking on my target. Vladamir is deep in a conversation with Emily Young and I plan on demanding answers from him before he disappears again.

"Bella?" I whirl around as a hand touches my arm. Shenani jumps back as I regard her with a cold gaze.

"What is it?" I hiss through clenched teeth at her. She means well but I have no time for well-wishing or small talk.

"Nothing," she squeaks quietly, completely subdued. She retreats to Demetri's arms like a whipped puppy. He consoles her while Emily and Jake look on in surprise.

"Bella, that wasn't very nice, she just wanted to see how you are doing. She is worried about you, we all are." Alice is using the stern tone that reminds me of her mother.

"I'm fine." I snap at her. "I just don't have time to talk right now." I turn to leave and find Ben blocking my path.

"Make the time Bella," he says in his quiet unassuming voice. I did not expect Ben to be the one to stand up to me. "We all had a hand in planning your rescue, and we all worried about you through your recovery. This is not you, I know you would never treat your friends this way…" he trails off but holds my gaze.

I falter a little under his stare. "It isn't that…" I stammer a little as I look at the others. "I just need some time, that's all. Really I'm fi…"

"Fine" Jake finished my sentence. "Yeah Bella, we get it. After all, it's obvious to everyone; you are the picture of mental health." His sarcasm is biting, he is not happy with how I am treating everyone and he is making no bones about it.

"Guys, give her some space alright? She's been through a lot." Edward steps out of a doorway in the hall and stands beside me.

"So what is this? You are VFF's now?" Demetri might have bungled the acronym but his suspicion is clear. Edward is not very discreet when it comes to hiding our newly made alliance.

"It's BFF you non English speaking Ruskie!" Edward yells at Demetri who gets right up in his face. It is about to come to blows when we hear someone clearing their throat behind us.

"I'm sorry to interrupt…" Ms. Epperson's voice is unmistakable, "I need to speak with you when you have a moment Bella." She regards the group with her steely gaze that betrays no emotion but at the same time seems to dare anyone to challenge her.

"Of course, I can talk right now. I just wanted to speak to Vladamir before he…" I look back down the hall for Vladamir but he is gone.

"Vladamir had to leave, I'm sure you will be able to catch up with him another time." Ms. Epperson's clipped words indicate she is losing patience. "I have set up a meeting area in the library; I will see you there in ten minutes." She is not asking, ten minutes meant now and I knew it.

I make my way to the familiar library and find the area has been setup with a table, laptop and chairs. I am alone in the makeshift conference room but I know better than to think I am not being watched. I sit and wait, this is a power game, I know it well. She will keep me waiting long enough to establish between us who is in charge and who is the subordinate.

After a few minutes Ms. Epperson walks in, she is looking at a datapad which she presses her thumb on and then hands to an aide who hold her chair while she seats herself across from me.

"Leave us," she says to the aide who exits via a side door that clicks shut behind him. Ms. Epperson pulls a device from her pocket and sets it on the desk, it looks a lot like the device Ben and I developed as part of my ill-fated attempt to demonstrate an aptitude for science and gadgets. The device was supposed to use sonic pulses to map a room and detect hidden passages and false walls. What it ended up actually doing was shattering all glass within a fifty foot radius and causing Ben's father Norman to request I not be allowed back in the lab ever again. The device, Ben nicknamed the 'Sonic Shatterer' had been instrumental in our first unauthorized excursion from The Compound.

I wince as I watch Ms. Epperson press the activation button on the device but instead of a shrill ear splitting pulse there is a low volume activation sound, not unlike the sound you would hear when a photographer is using a high intensity flash on his camera.

"Don't worry," Ms. Epperson smiles and looks me over. "Some of my resources have repurposed your invention and now it is very effective at jamming listening devices. I thought maybe we should chat alone for a moment." She folds her hands with perfectly manicured nails in front of her and gets down to business. "I know what you are planning; since you are new to our faction I will let you in on something." She leans slightly forward. _ "Don't."_ Her eyes narrow, "You are not the first to have something like this happen to her, nor will you be the last. You will trust the judgment of your faction leader and not seek revenge on your own. Such action could jeopardize the entire organization and would result in... sanctions." Her pause before the last word left no question as to its meaning. I would cease to be an asset and be deemed a liability. People tended to have short lifespans within The Gentlemen when that happened.

"So I'm just supposed to continue on like nothing has happened?" I make no effort to control my anger. "They took me, but the plan is clear. They are coming for us all, in one way or another. Doesn't my desire for revenge and the security of the organization coincide on this particular subject?" I am trying to convince her but in my mind this is a formality. I will do what I need to do with or without her blessing.

"NO!" I jump slightly as Ms. Epperson's small fist bangs on the table and I see a small crack in her otherwise unreadable visage. "You are not listening; I am not asking you, I am telling you. You will comply and you will NOT attempt an individual vendetta." She regains her composure. "Now that we have settled that you must be also made aware of the various resources available to you _within_ the Black Collars."

I suddenly realize what she has been slow-walking me to. "You say I cannot attempt an _individual_ vendetta. Am I permitted to involve my faction, or even the whole organization, using all the resources at my disposal to maximize the success of the operation?"

She claps her hands together slowly. "Very good Bella! And here I thought your ordeal had clouded your judgment to the point where your keen mind had been shut off in favor of blind rage. Yes you may request resources and, as long as your goals will benefit the organization as a whole, we will do our best to accommodate you." She pauses before continuing in a more affable tone. "And if you manage to meet your own goals within those constraints, we shall all walk away from this satisfied."

I stand and face her unflinching. "Thank you Ms. Epperson, I would like to take this time to formally request the resources needed to track down and eliminate the members of the former "New Management" movement. I would request that the enemies of the organization known as Jasper and Emmett Whitlock as well as James Witherdale all be marked for termination on sight. As for the traitor Rosalie Hale, I leave her fate in your hands."

"Agreed, in fact I have already ordered TOS orders on the first three. Ms. Hale however, is a delicate matter; she is to be brought to us, alive. I want no other factions to know of her capture until I have had the opportunity to question her. Understood?" Ms. Epperson rises from her seat, indicating the meeting is over. "Mr. Cullen will fill you in on the resources we have made available to you. Clean this up quickly, and as quietly as possible." She leaves without a backward glance.

I pick up the device she had left on the table. Switching it off I drop it in a pocket, never know when a decent jamming device will come in handy. Turning to leave I see Edward leaning in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, only half expecting an honest answer.

"Long enough… So who is first?" His meaning is clear, he wants a target.

"Emmett Whitlock" I reply without hesitation. "He is the weak link, a dumb brute that makes mistakes. He will lead us to Jasper and the rest." I stride past him and he scrambles to keep up. "I need you to arrange for a meeting with Vladamir, can you do that?"

"Sure, it might take a few days…." Edward stops as I turn and regard him with icy calm.

"Can you or can't you? 'Might' doesn't help me, neither does 'a few days' I need specifics and precision on my team." I turn and continue down the hall.

"I can get you a meeting with him within the next forty-eight hours." Edward is on board with the new way of doing things. For now, he is an asset.

I walk to the breakfast nook and find Garrett talking to one of his security staff. I wait impassively while he finishes and the security detail leaves. "Hey, Bella, what's going on?"

I cut him off, "I'm putting a team together. I'd like you Ben, Jake, Alice, Shenani and Demetri in my room as soon as possible if you are willing to help." I turn to leave, no time for niceties.

"Hey, whoa! Hang on there. Of course we are willing to help but the whole; 'All hail Bella' way of doing things is wearing a little thin. Let's just take a breath and not forget that you are a relative newcomer here." He puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me from leaving.

I slowly turn and look at his hand on my shoulder and then at him, then back to his hand until he slowly removes it. That accomplished I address him as a parent would address a child who did not understand what was going on.

"Garrett you have been a loyal and valuable friend and ally to my family and me for a long time now. I don't want what I say next to change any of that or make you think I do not appreciate all you have done, because I do." I take a breath and change my tone. "This is the new way we are doing things, I have a singular purpose at this point and you are either with me or you can get the fuck out of my way. They are going to pay for what they did and no one but me is going to see it done the way I need it done." My meaning is clear; I am going to make the kill, nothing short of that will satisfy my need.

I look into his eyes and see his look soften as he chooses his next words like a man on fire navigating a minefield in the dark while being chased by bees... and the bees are also on fire. "Bella, you know you can count on me for anything you need, but you need to understand something about killing – something that Jorgie or Demetri or Jake won't tell you. It opens up a part of you, a part you can't ever put away again. Everyone calls it something different but it is a universal truth and no one can escape it. It will change you Bella and neither your father, myself, nor any of the others who care about you want that for you." He put his hands on my shoulders and forces me to look at him. "Let me do this for you kid… I will kill them all, however you want. I will make them suffer, beg, bleed and regret every horrible thing they did to you. All I ask is that you trust ME to do it, your hands are still clean, and I aim to keep it that way."

I move out of his grasp… my anger starts to slip away when he talks to me like that and I am not ready to let it go. I keep my face impassive, not letting any emotion show. I pull my rage around me like a security blanket, like a suit of armor that protects me and keeps me warm at the same time. "No Garrett, not this time, this time they are MINE." I spin on my heel and continue to my room.

I have a war to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

******Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book. **

**Chapter 3 **

When I get to my room I close the door behind me and breathe a sigh of relief. None of them know how hard it is for me to keep this façade up, how I am on the verge of crumbling every time one of them gives me that look. I hate it. I will make sure they all know I am to be feared and followed, not pitied, never pitied.

I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face; I barely recognize my reflection anymore. My friendly smile lines have been erased, my jaw has a hard set to it and my eyes are narrow and glint dangerously. I don't linger long; I have been having trouble looking in the mirror since I got back… since I killed Newt.

_You didn't kill Newt, Garrett did._

Yeah sure, whatever helps me sleep at night, if only it helped_, _Garrett may have snapped his neck but he did so at my direction. It may make all the difference to Garrett but in my mind it is too fine a hair to split.

_Garrett says your hands are still clean._

I shove the thought to the back of my brain; Garrett can just keep his opinion to himself, my hands are covered in blood. Everyone keeps saying it isn't my fault but my mother, Gracie Blue, even Alice almost paid the price for the crime of simply knowing me.

_Taking a life opens a part of you that you can't put away._

Shut up brain… I'm counting on that, Garrett calls it "The Rage" and he says everyone who kills has a different name for it. Either way it amounts to the same thing, it's that part of you that you can't put away when you kill. I didn't have it quite yet but it was stirring, like the poem says "…_it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir … open its jaws, and howl." _The poem was talking about passion but for me it was something different…. something darker, more primal.

A knock at the door shakes me out of my thoughts. When I open it the group trails in behind Edward. Garrett is with them and they all take seats around the room. They are all staring at me but it is Edward who speaks.

"Christ, Bella, what is wrong with your eyes?" He walks over and looks closer at them. "They are all red… are you okay?"

"Fine, I just need some eye drops is all." I go into the bathroom and see that my anger has indeed popped all the blood vessels in my eyes and they are bloodshot. I put some drops in and it helps to clear them a bit before going out to join the others. No one says a word; they all look to me, waiting to find out why they have been summoned.

"Thank you all for coming." I begin, "I know I have been very cagey about my intentions and my plan but I want to thank you all for your patience and your understanding. I have decided, and Special Projects has agreed, that it is in the best interests of the organization as a whole to hunt down the so called "New Management" group and eliminate them. ToS orders have been issued on all priority targets with the exception on Rose… Rosalie Hale. So far we have no leads but Special Projects has made some information available to me on the targets and I would like to see what we can come up with."

Edward hands me a file and I look at the name on the front, _Emmett Whitlock._ I scan it quickly and hand it to Garrett. "Edward you have read the file, can you give us the abridged version?"

"Sure." Edward stands up and starts rattling off Emmett's vital statistics, Date of birth, height, weight. Nothing important or new, then he starts talking about current habits and associations. I listen closely; there is something I can use here, I know there is. "… due to the need to establish dominance over others the subject has been spotted attending and even competing in underground fight clubs. Subject has killed fifteen men and permanently injured countless others. He is reigning house champion at over a dozen establishments that cater to fights like this. At this point he shows up only to fight challengers since no one will fight him on a whim."

"That's it!" It suddenly hits me. "That's how we draw him out. Let's build up a reputation in another fight club for one of us, and then issue a challenge. It will have to be someone he doesn't know."

"I'm out then. He'd pick me out of a crowd a mile away." Garrett stands up, "Your plan isn't bad but you forget one thing. These underground fight clubs are no joke. You think we can just drop someone in and they will become the top dog overnight? This is a long term plan where we will have to build a background and establish a cover for the person. Then they would have to train hard and win… and win a lot." He sits back down.

"If anyone has a better idea I'd be glad to hear it." I look around me "Anyone? No? Then let's continue, who can pull this off that they don't know?"

"I can." Jake stands up. "I'll start training hard and will be ready in a couple weeks…"

"Come off it man, this is serious." Edward says, "We all know I'm the best choice here…"

"You both are wrong. Demetri is the one, I am strong like bull." Demetri thumps his chest for emphasis.

"Anyone else about to overdose on the testosterone in this room?" Alice lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why don't you guys just fight it out and see who is the better fighter."

"I'm game." Edward cracks his knuckles.

"Me too." Jake grins at Alice.

"Demetri will fuck you all!" Demetri shouts, everyone goes silent and stares at him.

"Up… Demetri," Shenani giggles "Fuck them all UP."

"What is difference?" Demetri looks at us all quizzically.

"Well one has you emerging victorious and the other is the big scene is an all-male prison movie," Jake laughs and the others join in. I stare at them all. None of this is funny to me, nothing is.

I cut their laughter short. "Fine, you guys settle it; Garrett will you see to it? I trust your judgment, but I would like to be there for the final bout and all decisions must be approved by me." I meet his gaze, he looks tired and he nods his head wearily.

"Sure Bella." Garrett pinches his nose and sighs. "C'mon you guys, let's see if there is a decent fighter among the lot of you." They all start to leave and Garrett turns to me with a pleading look. "Bella…"

"How long before you can make a decision on their skills?" I cut him off, I am in no mood to deal with his need to baby and protect me right now.

He sighs, "Give me a few hours to see what I'm working with, then come down to Eleazar's dungeon. We should be able to make an informed decision by that point." He gets the hint and leaves.

I spend the next few hours going over the file on Emmett Whitlock. Nothing really new, I scan the pages and try to glean any new insight from them. Suddenly I realize that I am going about this all wrong. I am not trying to capture this maniac I am simply trying to draw him out so I can kill him. His death is the only thing I want, it will draw out Jasper and then James. I already have a plan for drawing him out so why am I wasting my time? I push the file away and go to the kitchen to get something to eat.

As I make my way through the house I notice that the various support staff and security guards that normally nod or greet me are careful to avoid my gaze. Am I that different now? Has my ordeal changed me so much that I am a stranger among my friends? I smile ruefully to myself and remember something that Demetri's father, Eleazar once said to me. _When your friends betray you, the only ones you can trust are strangers. _I feel alone and angry, they took everything from me and I intend to get some of it back.

I decide against food, I have lost my appetite the more I think about my plans for revenge. I would have thought it would make me feel better but it doesn't, I just feel empty inside. Alice spots me in the hall and hurries over.

"Bella, you have to come settle this, the guys are going to kill each other if you don't." She looks worried and I am curious as to what she is talking about.

"Who's killing who now?" I ask in a voice that is devoid of emotion.

"Jake and Demetri! They have been at it for over an hour and neither one will back down, you need to hurry!" Alice pulls my hand and I follow her to the sparring arena.

I must admit I am a little shocked at what I see. Demetri and Jake are in neutral corners of the ring; Jake is attended by Garrett while Eleazar is assisting his son Demetri. They appear to be getting ready for what must be round 700 of World War III.

"Jake, you need to keep moving, don't charge right at him, he is quicker than you. Make him fight your fight, don't let him goad you…" Garrett is giving good advice to Jake who has bruises and welts all over his torso and one eye swollen shut.

"_Khoroshaya rabota! Teper' vy dolzhny prodolzhat' shin yego. Kogda on beret, rabotat' telo. On pokhozh na derevo... Narezat' yego vniz Demetri!"** _Eleazar is yelling what I suppose is the Russian equivalent into Demetri's ear. Demetri is sporting a broken nose and a cut above his eye that is oozing blood, but he is alert and his eyes are locked dangerously on his opponent.

A crowd has gathered to watch, and people are cheering for their favorite fighter. I see Edward in the corner observing the fighters and taking it all in. A bell rings and the fighters square off again.

Jake charges and Demetri sidesteps him, he lays a solid left into Jake's exposed midsection and then retreats a step. Garrett is right, Jake may be the stronger of the two, but Demetri is fast and avoids most of the huge swings Jake throws. Demetri continues working Jake's midsection with jabs and combination body and face shots. I am about to walk out, this fight is over, it is just a matter of how much punishment Jake can take before he drops. Suddenly Demetri gets in too close and I see what Jake is doing, he drops his left and Demetri takes the bait aiming a jab at the exposed side of Jake's face.

Demetri never sees the haymaker that ends the fight. Jake's right fist connects like a wrecking ball and spins Demetri in a complete circle. He is out cold on his feet but his body just hasn't figured it out yet. Jake moves in for what looks like will be a punishing uppercut but at the last minute realizes his opponent is defenseless and simply pushes him over. Raising his fists in victory the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.

Eleazar attends to Demetri who is coming around and the crowd applauds him as well. Jake is looking around the crowd and spots Edward, he points at him and then to the ring. He seems to want his next challenge.

Edward walks to the ring and climbs in, but Garrett steps between them and addresses the crowd. "The next bout will be in one week, which will give Jake a chance to rest and heal up. Good fight you two. Edward, who will you choose to be your corner-man for the fight?"

Edward scans the crowd and spots Eleazar and Demetri. "I'd like Demetri to do it if he is alright with that. I figure it is only fair he get a front row seat to me kicking Jake's ass."

Demetri grins ruefully and waves to the crowd before being ushered to the infirmary. Seems the championship bout will have to wait. I can't help feeling a little bit like a noblewoman whose affections are being fought for by two warriors. Alice enters the ring and drapes a towel over Jake's shoulders; he wraps an arm around her and plants a kiss right on her lips in front of everyone. So much for keeping their relationship quiet, the crowd roars its approval.

I turn to leave; the laughter and celebrating are as foreign to me as the Russian language Eleazar and Demetri speak. I am uncomfortable around happiness now. I want to go back to planning my revenge so I can go back to being the way I was before. As I reach the door I see Vladamir leaning against the wall. He smiles at me like a kindly grandfather who can see exactly what is going on in my troubled mind and imparts a few words of wisdom that burn into my very soul before he turns and leaves.

"Our revenge shall be the laughter of our children."

**Author's notes**

**Translation - Good job! Now you must continue to tire him out. When he charges, work the body. He is like a tree... Chop him down Demetri!


	4. Chapter 4

**********Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book. **

**Chapter Four**

The week before the fight is a busy one. I don't include Edward in a lot of the details, I have no doubt he would want to help, but I also know he would be training for the fight. I find myself acutely aware of the fact that since he is quite confident he will win the fight, he is also training for the mission. Jake is hitting the gym hard as well; both are in top physical shape and ready to battle the devil himself. But first, one must emerge victorious over the other.

Using the vast resources at my disposal as a Black Collar, I use Emily Young's public relations team to build a backstory for whichever fighter emerges victorious. The story is kept vague but compelling, a backwoods Canadian fighter who has defeated all comers in underground clubs from Vancouver to Montreal. He has come to the United States to find fresh competition, and to make a name for himself. He travels with an entourage but he alone is the power behind his victories. I work in spots in the entourage for myself and Garrett; I will worry about disguises later but for now I want to ensure I am not left out of the action.

Emily adds a few rumors to the story, vague whispers of a match where a man was killed by a single punch to the throat. A medical condition that causes the mystery fighter to be unable to feel pain, all delivered with the unique flair that made the Public Relations Director the asset she had proven herself to be over the years. "Sauce for the steak" she calls it with a knowing grin. I don't care; whatever it takes to draw out my prey.

The stories are planted in the seedy underbelly of society. Underground fight clubs across the country all are abuzz with stories of the mystery newcomer. No one had ever actually _seen _the new fighter but they always assure the person they are telling that they got their information from a very reliable source who had been there and witnessed the amazing fighter for themselves first-hand.

"We are going to have to come up with a name for this legendary fighter eventually." Emily is going over her notes and giving me an update on how well the story is being received and has 'saturated the target audience.' Whatever that means.

I think for a moment and then it hits me… "Just call him X," I say. "It adds to the mystery and a man with no name seems more undefeatable than a fighter named 'Dave' or 'Joe' – don't you think?"

"I like it." Emily is entering notes onto her tablet that no doubt are going out to her various contacts that will begin 'seeding' the new addition to the story. "I think I have an idea for a gimmick to really get the buzz going." She ventures cautiously. "But it could be dangerous."

"What is it?" I ask, my interest piqued at the mention of danger.

"Well most of these fighters go on reputation, so all the fight clubs usually have their favorites. They put up flyers and advertise themselves for upcoming fights as well as to brag about fights they have won. It's a big pissing contest really." She rolls her eyes but gets to the point. "Why not have a big 'X' painted over the ruling champion's face on his flyers and murals to announce our fighter's intention to dethrone the ruling champ? It will be more dangerous because we would be announcing our arrival ahead of time, but it would make it impossible for the reigning champions to ignore our fighter and save face with that kind of public challenge."

"I like it," I say with a nod. "Our prey will not be able to resist such a challenge." I go back to my research and begin creating my own persona. The fight promoter, equally mysterious, no one knows if she is dating the fighter or related to him. Everyone knows she is not to be crossed and has a reputation for getting top dollar for her fighter. I start trying to think of a name for my persona and my thoughts wander to the mythology of the phoenix; a bird that dies in flames and rises from the ashes. But I wasn't the phoenix, not yet. I settled on the name 'Ash'; let them wonder what the meaning is. By the time they had figured it out it would be too late.

Then there is Garrett. He would be a little more difficult to disguise but maybe I wouldn't have to. Ash would need muscle behind her when negotiating deals in this world, and even more muscle when she needed her questions answered or if a fight club owner decided to get cute. He would be known simply as 'King'. No one would know if it was a title or a name but one look at the makeover I had planned for him and they would know not to fuck with Ash's bodyguard. Katrina was too well known a weapon for him to carry with him, so I would have to arrange for something else. I needed to pay a visit to Eleazar and see what he could do.

I head down to the armory and find Eleazar among his weapons. He is putting the finishing touches on a bolt action .308 which is a beauty. He walks over to me; wiping his hands on a rag he greets me warmly. "Bella, so good you come to see Eleazar! What can I do for you today? You need weapon? Something blown up? You name it and Eleazar has tool for the job."

"Just a few questions first, did you craft Katrina for Garrett?" I figure I might as well just ask, there is no way it would be a secret.

"Ah yes, your father commissioned that particular weapon for Eleazar to make. Garrett appreciates master craftsmanship when he sees it, yes?" Eleazar is smiling like a proud father bragging about one of his children. "Modified .50 Caliber Desert Eagle, firing double stacked caseless rounds, able to hold an extended clip and fire full auto with a cyclic rate of 700 rounds per minute. You could cut trees down with a 30 round clip, yes?" I get the impression that Eleazar remembers every weapon he has ever assembled but that this one was like a favorite child or a long lost lover that he reminisces about fondly.

"It is the most beautiful weapon I have ever seen. You truly are a master craftsman, an artist." I am not buttering him up I mean every word. He is the best and right now that is what I need, nothing else will do.

"It truly is a unique piece and that is kind of the problem, I can't let Garrett bring it with us when we go undercover. It would be like Da Vinci trying to keep a low profile while carrying around the Mona Lisa, not going to work. You see my problem?" I look at him expectantly; he has a thoughtful look on his face.

"You need another work of art that is not so well known… Eleazar understands and has just the thing." He walks over to a weathered workbench and lifts an oilcloth to reveal a pristine cherry wood box. He picks it up and brings it over to me and sets it on the table in front of me. "This is Eleazar's finest piece that has never taken life."

I open the box and gasp. Inside is a large handgun that is flat black, sleek in design and intimidating in size. "It's beautiful, what do you call it?" I whisper as I take it from the case and hold it reverently.

"_Resheniye"_ he says softly in Russian.

"That's beautiful. What does it mean?" I ask him.

"The Solution," he answers, no further explanation is needed. This is a weapon that is not pulled to intimidate or to threaten. This is a weapon that solves problems, efficiently and permanently.

"Thank you Eleazar, can you give me a rundown of the features?" I place it back in the case.

"Weapon is built on a heavily modified glock forty frame, firing caseless nine millimeter rounds; it can hold 28 rounds double stacked in her clip and one in chamber. Has a laser sighting under the barrel, she can be set to fire single or three round bursts. Breaks down to 12 parts, constructed from carbon fiber and polycarbonate materials; the only metal piece is the firing pin which is small enough that it will sneak past most metal detectors." He smiles and pats my hand. "Do not worry Bella, she will kill for you, just put her in Garrett's hands and she will sing."

I kiss Eleazar on the cheek and take the box to my room. I will talk to Garrett about it later; I hope he doesn't give me a hard time about it. Garrett is very particular about Katrina; another gun in his life might seem to him like infidelity.

Fight night comes and I find out that Edward is heavily favored to win over Jake. I have a ringside seat, as do Edward's parents. Jake's father is present as well and I notice Vladamir in the back, taking it all in. He is leaning against the wall, blending in like part of the décor.

The fighters enter the ring, Jake has healed up nicely and Dimitri is in his corner. He is ready to give advice and assistance to the man that just a few days ago he was in a brutal battle with in the very same ring. Edward has put on about thirty pounds of solid muscle and looks like he has been chiseled from stone. His face is pure concentration; you would never know these two were friends in real life. Today they were adversaries; today there is no room for friendship.

The bell rings, neither fighter needs an introduction and the fight is on. Jake moves in and lays a powerful combination at Edward's midsection. Edward makes no move to block or dodge the blows and takes them unflinchingly as he drives Jake into the corner by physically shoving him backwards. As Jake tries to catch his footing Edward lays a series of punishing hooks to the left side of his head. The impacts are loud '_thwacks_' that come in rapid succession. Jake manages to get out of the corner and away from the punishing onslaught, but the damage is done and he is dazed. His legs are rubbery and he spends the rest of the round trying to avoid Edward.

Edward leaves his opponent alone the rest of the round and returns to his corner at the bell. He takes some water but just observes Dimitri working on Jake trying to get him ready for the next round. The bell rings and they meet in the center of the ring again. Once again Edward allows Jake to hit him with no discernible effect and then unleashes a series of punishing blows on him. He is the epitome of the fictional fighter we have created; savage, brutal and seemingly impervious to pain. Jake is staggered again by another of Edward's haymakers. Instead of finishing him off though he retreats and allows him to recover. What is he doing? Toying with Jake? Allowing him to save face by carrying him a couple of rounds?

The rest of the round goes pretty much the same as the first. But the third round is different. Edward strides out to the middle of the ring and attacks Jake with a ferocity that has the crowd gasping. A couple of combinations and then a savage uppercut that lifts Jake off the mat and puts him flat on his back and it is over. No count is needed; Edward is perfect for the role we require him to play.

After the fight I walk to my room and wait for Edward and Garrett to arrive. I don't wait long before they knock and I show them in. I congratulate Edward on his victory and lay out the role he is to play. He takes it all in and agrees that it is a great cover and a role well suited to him. I send him to Norman and the other white collars for them to get a disguise for him in place.

Once we are alone I turn to Garrett. "I know I have been distant lately, but I want you to know that you are one of the only people I trust. I have made sure that you will be a big piece of this mission but you will need to be disguised. I give him a composite sketch of how Emily and her people have envisioned his makeover. Shaved head with a chinstrap beard that goes to a long pointed goatee; completely disguising his trademark square jaw. He scowls in disgust but sighs and nods, he knows it is necessary.

"One more thing." I point to his jacket where I know Katrina would be hanging in her holster. "Katrina will give you away, she can't come."

"Now wait a minute…." Garrett protests, his hand moving protectively to his prized weapon.

"You know I'm right Garrett, she has to stay. I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of procuring you a reasonable substitute. Eleazar didn't seem to think you'd mind." I motion to the box on the desk.

He opens the box and his eyes widen. "What does he call her?" he asks me quietly.

"_Resheniye" _I reply from memory. "It means…"

"The Solution." Garrett finishes my sentence. "I like it. Okay kid, you win." He pulls Katrina from his holster, ejects the clip and opens the slide, popping the round from the chamber. He places the clip, pistol and the single round on my mantle. "I'm going to want her back when we get these guys." He says to me with mock sternness as he pulls "The Solution" from the case, checks that it is loaded and then places it in the empty shoulder holster.

"A perfect fit." I smile at him and open the door. "Start growing your beard out. We make our debut as soon as the last of the details are in place."

"What details?" Garrett looks at me quizzically.

"I have to bring my father up to speed; he is NOT going to like what I have planned next." I sigh and start to shut the door.

"Bring Katrina with you," Garrett chuckles "You might need her. Good night kid, and good luck. I hope you know what you're doing."

I close the door behind him and whisper.

"So do I."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book.

**Chapter 5**

I send word through official channels (Garrett) that I need to meet with my father. I know he keeps tabs on me and that he has been keeping his distance since our last meeting. I appreciate that he is not smothering me, especially after my ordeal. I feel that if I want to keep this freedom he has allowed me to have, I have to at least make an effort to keep him as much in the loop as I can. Since the number of people I can trust is in short supply, I figure it can't hurt to bounce some of my ideas off of my father's keen analytical mind.

I expect my father to arrive within a few days of getting the message, but am surprised to learn he will be available to meet a few hours after I send the message. I guess he has been waiting to hear from me. We arrange to meet in the library, where I first met him face to face.

I arrive a few minutes early for our meeting and am only slightly surprised to find my father and Garrett already there. They stop talking and look slightly uncomfortable as I cross the room and address them both.

"You know, I'm starting to develop a complex from the way people stop talking when I enter a room." I remark dryly.

My father smiles and turns to Garrett, "We can finish this later old friend." Garrett nods and leaves us alone, though I know we are never truly alone in this house. Someone is always listening, waiting for a piece of information that can be traded or used to their own advantage.

I motion to the chessboard, "Has your game improved?" I have been able to beat him fairly steadily the last few times we've played, but I still enjoy the challenge.

He smiles and sits down "Not really; you are the only one I play against anymore." We open with classic positioning moves and the game is on.

"I wanted to bring you up to speed on what I have planned for the next few months." I jump right in, my aggressive style of play matching my words.

"I got the basics from Emily, I'm glad you chose to include Garrett." He moves a piece to negate my chosen tactic, forcing me to rethink my strategy. "Though I don't think he is thrilled about his new look." He grins at me.

"A necessary alteration, one that Edward and I will have to make too." I choose another avenue of attack and move a piece into position.

"I know, I just want you to be careful, I just got you back and I don't want to lose you again." Moving another piece he thwarts my attack again. Frustrated I glare at him and he smiles. "I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. In fact I had my guys come up with a few things to help your new persona." He nods at the desk where a black attaché case is sitting. "I hope they help."

"Thank you, I'm sure they will be very useful." I hide my delight as I find a hole in my father's defenses and surreptitiously move my pieces to take advantage.

"I do have a condition though …" My father closes his ranks and blocks me again. "Just a little something, in exchange for me not trying to stop you from your chosen course of action."

I am getting frustrated, with the game and this conversation. I make a reckless move and it pays off. I have his bishop cornered. "What condition is that?" I ask warily.

"Immersion training." He says, like I'm supposed to know what it means. "I have taken the liberty of setting it up for the three of you." He makes a benign move and I press my attack.

"I don't need any more training. I have wasted too much time already. Do you think our enemies are waiting around training, or do you think they are plotting their next move?" I am getting angry and force myself to keep my tone even and my temper in check. "When I hit them next, they will know they have been hit." I finish with a deadly edge to my voice.

"True," my father says amiably. "You are quite the warrior now. However, as any true warrior knows, sometimes you have to abandon the attack and observe the entire battlefield, otherwise…" He moves his queen "details can be overlooked that exact a harsh penalty." He leans back in his chair. "I believe that is checkmate."

I stare at the board dumbfounded. I had been concentrating too much on my attack strategy, so much that I had left myself wide open for the subtle manipulations of my father. As he slowly let his pieces fall into place he let me think I had been controlling the game before waiting for the perfect time to strike. I look up at him slowly, "This lesson would have blown up in your face if I had noticed what you were up to and beaten you," I say with a bitter tone.

He regards me sternly and then cracks a smile. "You're telling me, I have been sweating it out since your third move."

I sigh as I tip my king over. "Fine, tell me about this immersion training."

"It is just what it sounds like. It is training designed to make you completely comfortable in your new personas. It also is designed to make your reactions to your teammate's personas more fluid and natural. It takes about three months but when you are done you will BE your personas, you will not be just pretending to be someone else." He walks to the desk and picks up the case. "And you can use that time to familiarize yourself with these."

I take the case and open it. I feel a little bit like the spy in the movies who always visits the gadget guy before the big mission. "Okay, you want to give me a rundown on this stuff?"

"Happy to," My father picks up a couple of small objects, one black and one silver. These can double as belt buckles or pendants, with the press of the center button here…" Three blades pop out, he presses it again and they fold back in. "The blades are treated with a liquid repelling compound in case there is a lot of blood." He finishes.

_Oh there will be blood._ I think to myself but just nod.

"Now these are really nice. Polycarbonate retractable blades… strap them to the inside of your forearm and they will shoot out at about five hundred PSI, and then retract immediately. They are completely undetectable by metal detectors and coated with the same liquid repelling compound." He demonstrates the mechanism, I am impressed. I will make good use of this weapon, I am sure of it.

"Lastly, I have an old favorite." He hands me a tube of lipstick. "Don't apply your makeup with this one though. It fires a single .30 caliber round." He shows me how to load it and how it fires. *The CIA and KGB loved these back in the Cold War era. They were putting guns in everything back then. I once heard of an agent that got shot by a booby trapped roll of toilet paper." He chuckled at the memory.

"Thank you for these. I know they will come in handy on this mission." I start to close the case.

"Hang on a second. I saved the best for last." He flips open a compartment on the case and it opens to reveal two ornate .45 Colt 1911's; one silver, one black, both embossed with gold. "They will expect you to be armed. This gives them something to find, and they are real nail drivers to boot."

"They are beautiful." I lift them from the case, they fit easily in my hands; the weight is comforting and conveys a feeling of power. They are perfectly balanced and easy to aim. "Thank you, this is not the typical father/daughter gift but it is perfect."

"Well I got you a little something along the more traditional route too." He pulls a box from his pocket. "I hope you like it; you are not exactly easy to shop for these days."

I open the box and find silver earrings, each in the shape of a single wing. "Angel wings?" I ask him.

"Egyptian silver; they are called the wings of Horus." He looks up at me to see if I understand.

"God of the moon which is represented as a falcon or winged man with a falcon head; battled the serpent-god Set for control of the underworld and is mostly associated with revenge and the all-seeing eye." I recite from memory. "All very appropriate for my new persona; they are beautiful, thank you."

"Keep them together. If they are separated by more than 50 feet they will send a signal that will alert me you are in danger." He kisses my forehead. "Sometimes a father needs an all-seeing eye of his own."

I hug him and we have a short moment where things were just like they were before. It didn't last, but it was nice while it did.

"I have to tell you something before I go." My father becomes serious again.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Special Projects, I want you to be very careful in your dealings with them. Ms. Epperson is very ruthless and always will do what is in the best interests of the organization's survival as it exists today. She enjoys an abundance of power right now with very little accountability; she will throw you to the wolves to keep things as they are. When the 'New Management' faction started to attempt their hostile takeover she didn't help them, but it is widely believed she had a non-interference deal with Hector. She hedged her bets so no matter which side won, she came out on top." He looks around like he knows someone is likely listening. "All I'm saying is this, know what your worth is to her at all times; don't ever overestimate your value to her."

I hug him again "Thanks Dad, I won't forget." I put the earrings on and kiss him on the cheek. We were a loving father and daughter again for a moment before I turn and leave the room.

Garrett is waiting for me outside the room and sees the case in my hand. "Care package?" he asks.

"The very best kind," I reply with a sinister grin.

"So what's the plan then Bella?" Garrett asks, always ready to help with my next big idea.

"Immersion training," I answer flatly. "And call me Ash."

"Sure kid, whatever you say." He looks at me "Do I really have to shave my head?"

Immersion training is tough but I welcome it. Emily's team goes to work on us, completely disguising our appearances. Edward and I are made to look older but Garrett has the most dramatic change. Head shaved; bushy long goatee and chinstrap beard. A fake scar through his left eyebrow and down his cheek give him a sinister appearance, and his new trademark dark glasses complete the transformation.

Edward grows his hair out and increases his weight gain through physical training. His face takes on a chiseled look that is unlike the person I knew before.

My transformation includes heavier makeup than I am used to. A hairstyle change and outfits that encourage people to look anywhere but my face are the prime focus on my transformation. Looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger staring back can be a very liberating experience. I remember a line from the classic story of the invisible man … _It's amazing what you can do when you don't have to look at yourself in the mirror._ I'm not quite invisible, but being someone else is close enough.

We start by going out to clubs as our new personas. Referring to each other by our new names, Ash, X and King make new contacts and start telling stories of things they have done until they flow easily and effortlessly. X and Ash give off an air of mystery to outsiders, no one knows if they are lovers or related. No women approach X for fear of being rebuked by Ash. Similarly no men approach Ash, her two companions make it clear that she is under their protection.

Before long we are ready to begin to bait the trap. To do that, we need to start becoming fixtures on the underground fight circuit. We select a small town in southern Ontario called Cargill. We visit local bars and "find out" there is an underground fight circuit among the ranchers and meat packers in the area.

We visit the fights a few times and size up the competition. The local champion is a large ranch hand named Zane 'the insane' Phelps. He is big and strong but lacks any real skill or competitive edge. We begin executing Emily's plan of distributing copies of Zane's poster with a big red X drawn through it. In the arena there is a giant mural with Zane's picture and we break in and X it out too. Before long we start hearing people whispering of the mysterious undefeated fighter that has decided to challenge the local champion. People start taking notice of strangers and it isn't long before speculation begins coming our way.

It is time to announce our presence. Fight night is Friday and I decide it is time to put our training into practice. I start loudly referring to Edward as 'X' in public and I take note of the people overhearing as they start to spread the word. Before long, we are sitting in a local watering hole when Zane enters with his entourage. It is obvious he is looking for us and when he sees us in the booth in the corner he walks over.

"So you're the hotshot who's been fucking up my posters with these X's?" It's not really a question but Edward, in his new persona just looks at him with a bored expression and then, ignoring Zane addresses me.

"I thought you said he couldn't read." He says to me in a bored tone "I figured since X was at the end of the alphabet it would take him at least a couple of weeks before his spelling lessons got that far." King (Garrett) snorts in amusement and takes a drink from his glass.

"The Canadian education system is much more efficient than the American one," I reply back, "Or, maybe one of the rocket scientists he brought with him told him what it was. Is that what happened boys? Did you let him copy off of your paper?" I am goading them I know, but we are in no real danger.

"Look who's got jokes." Zane is red in the face, "I figured I'd make it easy for you to find me since you seem to have something to prove." He flexes his chest muscles, "Are we going to do this or what?"

X (Edward) drains his glass and then stands up. "Sure, I have nothing pressing for the next five minutes. Am I beating all of you down or just you slugger?" He yawns as they look at each other.

"Hang on X." I stand up and chide him like a patient teacher. "You know my rules, if they want to get beat; they need to pay to play." I address them like I am noticing them for the first time. "Tell your booking agent he can contact me at the fight on Friday. We'll be there and I doubt we will be hard to find."

"My agent?" Zane is bewildered for a moment. "Um yeah, well Willie here is my agent so you can work out a deal now." He claps the older one of the group on the shoulder and ushers him forward.

"I am?" He looks confused for a moment then straightens and takes off his battered ball cap and finds his confidence. "I mean… I am. If you want to make a deal you make it with me."

"Of course." I switch to being all business, "King, please get a drink for Mister…"

"Nelson," he volunteers readily, we all stare at him.

"Wait a minute; your name is Willie Nelson?" X is incredulous.

"Yeah I know, but I'll let you in on a secret. I ain't the country singer." He grins at us revealing a bunch of tobacco stained teeth.

"Well then, Mr. Nelson. Since your client is the defending champion, I will defer to you to name the terms." I lean back in my seat and a regard him coolly.

"R-right, the um, terms." It is obvious he is hopelessly out of his depth. "As an, um, visiting fighter I am, ah, that is, open to extending you the courtesy of um…." He looks at me pleadingly for help.

"How kind." I lean forward and his eyes drop to take in the view. "I was thinking this Friday, as the final bout of the night. Your fighter would get top billing of course as the defending champion. I would like to introduce my own fighter though as part of our agreement." King (Garrett) returns and places a drink in front of Mr. Nelson, he takes a sip without seeming to taste it. "What is your fighter's standard winning share of the house profits here?"

"Zane?" Willie looks at the larger man for the answer.

"Twenny-five percent of the gate and house winnings on the bettin'," Zane proclaims proudly.

"How quaint..." I respond dryly. "Very well, in light of the fact that there is no real risk to my fighter I suppose we can be convinced to take a pay cut. Once he is champion I will negotiate a new deal with the arena or move the fights elsewhere. Is there anything else before we drink on it Mr. Nelson?"

"Ummm no that will about do it little Miss..." He raises his glass, "To your fighter's continued good health."

"To yours as well." I raise my glass and regard him with narrowed eyes. "Until Friday at least."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. This was written as an original story and converted to a Twilight Fan fiction piece to garner interest in the story. I will release the original version at the end of each book.

**Chapter 6**

With the fight set for Friday we all have work to do in order to prepare. Rather than stopping our antagonistic campaign we step it up. Not only do we deface every fight flyer and handbill we can find with Edward's new trademark 'X', we also start putting our own flyers out. Our flyers look like a coroner's report for the reigning champion Zane "the Insane" Phelps. Causes of death range from a prophetic 'blunt force trauma to the head', to a more amusing 'unrecoverable brain damage', to the downright insulting 'terminal rectal trauma from a sexual encounter with a horse'.

The effect is the desired one; we make it to Thursday and are sitting in our regular booth when we are confronted by a dozen large men, in various stages of inebriation. The leader of the group steps forward and addresses us.

"You X?" he puts two very large fists on the table and leans in.

"Who's asking?" King (Garrett) growls with a warning edge to his voice.

"We're asking." The man stands up and regards X coolly. "You don't look so tough to me. I'm glad I got five hundred bucks on Zane to beat you down tomorrow." He leans in again, "In fact, each one of these guys here has a sizable wager on Zane to drop you on your prissy little ass, pretty boy." He picks up my drink and pours it on the floor. "What do you think of that Mister Badass?"

Edward regards him like a lion would regard a baby deer. "I think you had best get Ash another drink and say you're sorry before I make you the preliminary bout before the main event." His fist clenches and the knuckles pop one at a time as his eyes glitter dangerously.

"Excuse me? There's twelve of us, and two of you. Well, two and a half if you count your little girl toy over here. What happens when we don't just scurry away all scared and hide?" He thumps his hand on the table. "We intend to ensure that you lose tomorrow, so get your ass up and let's see what you're made of…."

His words are cut short. As if there was an unseen, unspoken signal between the two of them both Garrett and Edward explode out of the booth. Edward kicks the table over and uses it like a battering ram, bowling over four of the would-be assailants. Garrett grabs two of them by their necks and throws them against the walls with enough force that I know they are not getting up anytime soon. I restrain myself from joining in and do my best to look bored, like this has happened a thousand times in a thousand different towns.

Edward and Garrett make short work of the remaining six, leaving them in various stages of hurt before they sit back down with me and order a fresh round of drinks. We sit and wait; it isn't long before the local cops arrive and assess the situation. The sheriff is old but not dumb, he picks the three strangers out as being involved without having to ask.

"Okay, so who wants to tell me what happened here?" he loops his fingers in his belt and addresses us with his best stern 'officer of the law' voice.

"You know it was the strangest thing…" I begin with my best 'I'm so innocent' voice.

"I'm no doctor but I think it was some kind of sudden onset mass Tourette's Syndrome event." Garrett adds in a deadpan voice.

"I'm just glad we weren't involved." Edward adds with a mild grin.

"Alright, you've made your point. I'm watching you though. Step out of line in my town and you'll wish you hadn't." The Sheriff walks away with this and tries to get statements from witnesses. None of them are willing to implicate the strangers in the corner.

"Well I think we are getting to him at least. He is just nervous enough that he wants me softened up before the fight." Edward looks pleased.

"Maybe…" Garrett ventures as he strokes his lengthy goatee; a habit he has picked up since I made him grow it out.

"He didn't send them." I cut in with a flat tone. "These are just a bunch of dumb hicks that are afraid of losing the rent money in the fight tomorrow trying to stack the odds." I look at them both. "The real fight is coming and you had better be ready, otherwise this is going to be the shortest undercover stint in the history of Special Projects. I don't know about you, but I'm not looking to set that kind of record."

"Hey, ease up Bell-Ash," Edward corrects himself and my sharp look reminds him that we are in this 24/7. Slips like that will cost us if they happen at the wrong time. I will not allow that.

"I'll ease up once your reputation is fact and not something I cooked up with Emily!" I hiss back at him acidly. I collect myself, smile the phoniest smile I can manage and excuse myself to go back to my room and prepare for tomorrows event. Garrett tries to follow but I tell him to stay and keep an eye on our fighter in case any more of the locals try to get cute.

I cross the street and walk about fifty feet before I notice them. They are trying to look like a rowdy group of friends just making their way down the street, but they are too steady on their feet and their speech too clear to be as drunk as they would have me believe. I begin scanning the area for options.

My mind races and I calm it down the way Eleasar taught me.

Option 1: The hotel. I can make it if I run, but everyone knows I am staying there so there is no guarantee I am not being purposely herded in that direction toward an ambush. Plus I won't run from anyone, it would damage my cover story.

Option 2: Turn and fight. I am fully armed and there is only four of them. I can cut them down with my pistols before they close the distance and overwhelm me, but the closer they get the more that option shrinks. Plus, I am still in Canada; just having a pistol is enough to land me in jail, let alone using it.

Option 3: Do something they would not expect and make them come to me. Turn down an alleyway, walk past the hotel. How they react will give me more insight into who I am dealing with. I settle on option three and begin formulating a loose strategy in my head.

_All war is deception_; The Sun Tzu quote from "The Art of War" is running through my head. I read the entire book in an afternoon and try to put what I learned into practice. I remember hearing how a lot of high powered businessmen and lawyers all have the book on their shelves and use its knowledge in their everyday business dealings. I always considered that a form of sacrilege, the knowledge in that book was intended for a higher purpose; it was an instruction manual on how to defeat a foe who is intent on killing you. I intend to use its knowledge as such today.

Cutting a hard left down an alley I hear the crowd behind me go quiet, confirming at least that I am the focus of their attention and not just being paranoid. I spot a dumpster and move along a piece of discarded cardboard to crouch behind it. No footprints and no trace of my passing can be seen without coming into the narrow alley. The location is perfect. They will not be able to surround me, nor will they be able to engage me more than one on one. I control my breathing and wait. _One mark of a great soldier is that he fight on his own terms or fights not at all._

I hear them stop at the mouth of the alley and begin to make their way toward me. Their hushed tones have a questioning tone about them; it's time for me to strike. I take a breath, and step out from behind the dumpster.

"Didn't your mother's ever warn you about following girls into dark alleys?" I ask sweetly as I stand firm but maintain the distance I need.

The one closest to me advances and I prepare to end him with my hidden blades. "No harm intended Miss…We was all just wondering, are you the manager of the fighter called 'X'? The one fighting Zane tomorrow night?" I relax a little, maybe I had misread this one, maybe I am a little too far on the edge.

"I am." I remain defiant, not letting my guard down. "What of it?"

"We was just wanting to know, how sure a thing it would be to bet on him…" He takes his battered cap off, "You see, I got laid off of the plant and times are tough, the mortgage is a couple months overdue and I figured if I can at least double what I got…." He looks at me pleadingly, this is not a soldier, this is a desperate, broken and already defeated man.

"Bet everything on a knockout in the first round," I tell him. "Get at least five to one odds since they have never seen him fight." I look at him with confidence, "If he doesn't deliver, bring me your betting slip and I will pay it at twenty to one."

"Yes Ma'am." The man moves backward toward his friends, "Thank you kindly! If there is ever anything–"

"See me after the fight, we can discuss it then." I smile again. "And please don't ever try and sneak up on me again. The results could be, unfortunate." My meaning is clear and they retreat.

_The greatest victory is that which requires no battle_. I chalk this up as a win and make it to the hotel without incident. I'm pleased at the outcome, yet slightly shaken at how close I came to killing a man who meant me no harm. Maybe Edward is right, maybe I need to relax a bit. I shake the thought off; I'll relax when this is over; for now this is who I need to be. I crawl into bed for a few hours rest. One way or another, tomorrow is going to be a busy day.

I sleep late and have a late lunch at a local diner with my companions. I must look like I don't want to talk at all since neither of them attempt to engage me in any type of conversation. I finally tell them I want to go to the venue and see what and who we are dealing with.

We make our way to the venue and are a good three hours early, the bookies and arena staff are there but no one is buying tickets or seated yet. I find a room for my fighter to prepare in and then take King (Garrett) with me to the office to discuss how the evening's event will go.

Walking into the office I am taken aback by how much more of a hangout it is than a place to conduct business. There is a pool table and a card table with three men engaged in a poker game. There is a choking odor of cigar smoke that hangs in the air emanating from the stogie clenched between the teeth of the man with the largest stack of poker chips at the table. He spots us and waves us over.

"Ah, new blood! About time someone showed up that could challenge our ruling champ. I've heard a lot about your fighter, and you." He looks at Garrett and frowns. "This guy isn't going to cause trouble is he?"

"King only finishes fights; he doesn't start them unless I deem it necessary." I sit in the vacant seat and look at the other two men. "I like to conduct my business privately, leave us."

"Hey hey, we're in the middle of a game here…." One of the men starts to object. Garrett picks up the deck of cards and bends it in his hand before spraying all but one card, the king of spades, all over the floor. The king he licks and sticks to the man's forehead.

"Go fish," he growls ominously.

They leave.

"Now that we have that unpleasantness taken care of, we can conduct some business." I look him in the eye. "I wish to take this opportunity to discuss some changes and line up some real fights at this venue for my fighter."

"Hang on now, little lady! Your fighter hasn't even fought yet. Why don't we wait until the fight is over before we start talking about other fights? You should know that your fighter is a three to one underdog to win and the odds only get longer if you think he is going to knock Zane out." He sits back and puffs his cigar.

"Oh make no mistake, the fight is over, and after today, MY fighter will be the champion and I will be the one calling the shots." I lean forward and take the cigar out of his mouth, dropping it into a mug of half consumed beer. It goes out with a hiss and I let the silence hang between us.

"What kind of changes are you thinking?" The smug little man ventures cautiously.

"Fifty percent of the gate and betting profits, I will bring in more business by offering a large purse for anyone who can dethrone X. My only stipulation will be that any challenges will need to be a ranked champion in his respective fighting style or region. In other words, a steady supply of title matches that people will pay big money to see, and to bet on." I lean back in my chair and regard him with a coy smile. "You don't strike me as someone who is averse to making money."

"Lady if your fighter wins tonight–" He begins.

"When," I interrupt.

"When what?" he asks.

"When my fighter wins, you are still talking like the outcome of this fight is in dispute. Let me assure you it isn't." I hold his gaze.

"Well then, when your fighter wins tonight, we can discuss it then." He finishes angrily. He is obviously not used to not being the one in control of the conversation.

"I see, well this is a limited time offer I am extending to you. Once my fighter shows what he can do I won't need you anymore, I will be able to set up shop anywhere. Don't forget, the fighter is the draw… not the venue." I stand up. "Come on King, it seems we have come to the wrong place." I turn back to the club manager when I reach the door, I haven't even bothered to learn his name, it doesn't matter to me. "I will expect you to close your doors after tonight, I don't like competing clubs in my town." I leave, ignoring the loud string of protests and profanity.

I don't have to wait long for the club owner to find me and inform me that we "have a deal" as long as I can deliver on my end. Edward asks what is going on and I just tell him to deal with his end of things and let me deal with mine.

The club is starting to fill up and Garrett and I are seated at a special table in the VIP section. Other fighter's managers, girlfriends and assorted hangers-on are gathered here as well but keep their distance. They refer to us only in hushed tones and sideways glances, but no one bothers us.

I scan the crowd and see the face of the man from the alley. He holds up his betting slip and then eight fingers. I get his meaning, he got eight to one odds; good for him. I smile and nod in his direction.

The fights all go as expected, sloppy bouts of has-been or brute force fighters. None of them are classically trained and each bout is more what Garrett would call "a bunch of apes trying to fuck a football" than actual fighting.

Finally our moment arrives, the main event. I enter the ring and wait while the fight club manager introduces the bout. He then hands me the microphone and I begin.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the main event. I hope you all have placed your bets because tonight you will see a true exhibition of deadly fighting skill and killer instinct. Also, I understand your reigning champion will be in the ring too!" I pause and wait for the laughter and boos to die down. "My fighter, who is new to your town and ready to fight, standing 6'1", weighing in at 253 lbs., career record of forty–eight wins, no losses and forty eight knockouts. I present to you, the man, the myth, the legend and the cold chill running down Zane's back…. X!"

The place erupts, everyone wants to see him, to be part of his glory and say to their kids and grandkids that they 'were there when–' as X moves down the ramp and enters the ring. His face is impassive and his body looks like it has been chiseled from rock as he stands and waits for his opponent.

Zane enters the ring with all the fanfare of a television wrestling event. Pyro and theme music, a lot of show as Zane plays to the crowd. I notice he is looking everywhere but at the ring and it hits me, he is afraid. I smile and realize for the first time that this battle truly is already over. I lean in and whisper in Edward's ear. "I promised someone a knockout in the first, don't make me a liar. Put him down fast, we already know people will be talking about your victory, I also want them talking about how quick it was over." He nods, his gaze fixed on his opponent.

Zane finally enters the ring and we are ready to begin. After a brief exchange in the center of the ring the fighters move to their corners. Zane's face is flushed with anger at whatever Edward said to him. I smile knowing exactly what he is doing.

_If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant_. Evidently Edward is as big a fan of Sun Tzu as I am.

The buzzer sounds signaling the beginning of the round and Zane explodes out of his corner and charges at X. He throws two wild haymakers which don't find their mark. X moves to the side and connects a single punishing shot to Zane's left side. He then grabs his shoulders and drives his knee into the larger man's midsection, folding him in half. His foot continues traveling upward and his heel connects with Zane's forehead, snapping his head back and staggering him.

Zane stumbles backward trying to clear the cobwebs from his head and never sees it coming. A cyclone uppercut that lifts him clear off the mat, knocking him out cold before gravity has a chance to return him to the ground.

I look at the fight clock, twenty three seconds and Zane never even laid a hand on him.

The crowd is stunned into silence at the sight of their champion being felled so decisively. They could not have been more shocked if Edward had just pulled out a gun and shot the larger man.

Finally the silence is broken by a voice chanting 'X….X…..X….X…" the rest of the crowd picks up the chant and Edward raises his arms in victory.

I smile to myself and look at Garrett who gives a grudging shrug of respect at the fighting prowess we had both just witnessed. "He's a hit," Garrett says to me with a grin.

"No," I reply with a laugh. "Now, he's a legend; a knight, a dragonslayer; just what we need to slay a dragon."


End file.
